


I Remember

by kelex



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, episode-related, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-08
Updated: 2004-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex remembers what Bob Rickman made him do; what will he do with the knowledge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Remember

## I Remember

by Kel

<http://kelex.popullus.net/smallville.html>

* * *

Lex bolted awake, sweaty and tangled in his sheets. "I know what I saw," he whispered to the blackness. 

* * *

"Wow. Lex, you look like you haven't slept in days," Clark said quietly as Lex walked into the barn. He almost felt like putting his arm around Lex's shoulders and guiding him up the stairs. "Come on." 

Lex said nothing as he watched Clark climbing the steps beside him. The young man was moving like he had not a care in the world, and Lex was still walking wounded, still wincing at the pain in his head every time he turned sharply, resulting from his close encounter with the garage's shelving. It was only Friday... only two days after the attack, only a day after they'd stood in this very loft, watching a sunset together, and for all purposes swearing to be friends forever in a way that would change history. 

"Um, Lex? You can say something any time," Clark said uneasily. "You're weirding me out here." Clark stood uncomfortably at the head of the steps as Lex stood in the middle of the Fortress. 

"I'm weirding _you_ out?" Lex finally answered. The incredulous tone almost bordered on sarcastic. "How novel." 

"Lex--" 

"Just shut up, Clark, and hear me out. I know I shot you. I can't _forget_ the sight of the gun in my hand spraying bullets all over you, and you're _not_ _hurt._ How, exactly, does that work?" He was angry, scared, worried, and he felt betrayed. 

"Huh? What are you talking about, Lex?" Clark's mind started to whirl like a dervish. _He's not supposed to remember! Chloe didn't remember! My dad didn't remember... why the hell does Lex??_

"Can't you stop lying for two seconds?" Lex's temper flared, and he charged Clark, shoving him backwards. Clark's arms pinwheeled as he fought to catch his balance, and then he fell. Lex watched, horrified, as Clark's body broke through the small landing and plummeted to the hay-strewn floor beneath. "Clark!!" 

Clark got up, shaking his head and brushing the hay out of his hair. "Lex?" 

"Clark, are you all right?" Lex called from the top step. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... wait there. The floor--won't be sound enough for you to climb on. Let me find something down here to shore it up with." 

Clark disappeared into the back of the barn, and Lex collapsed onto the sofa in the fortress. What had he just done? Almost killed his best friend--again. But Clark... didn't seem to be hurt. Just like the gun... God, the gun! He'd shot Clark. He knew it. He'd seen the bullets tearing through his jacket, heard the dull thud of metal against flesh. "What the hell is going on?" he whispered to himself. 

Clark flew through the barn, ripping sheets of roofing tin into a temporary patch for the landing until he could rebuild it. He couldn't figure out how the hell Lex remembered unless... _the meteors! They had to have something to do with it. Rickman and Kyle Tippett had both been affected by the meteors, just like Lex. Maybe Lex could remember because of the meteor effects on him! And... oh, Jesus. That means he knows!_ Clark cursed silently to himself. _It's time he knew, dammit. He's been nothing but a friend to you, Clark. You know you trust him, love him, so go in there and fucking tell him! Apologize for lying and hope he understands!_ He carried the sheet metal back to the Fortress and looked up to see Lex holding his head in his hands. "Lex?" 

"Clark!" Lex leapt up from the couch and walked over to the railing. Clark had a toolbox nearby and a stack of sheet metal. "Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine, Lex. Just stay up there until I get this tacked into place." 

"Talk to me, Clark," Lex pled suddenly. "Please. Tell me... tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me I'm not losing my mind... tell me that I remember what I remember." 

"Jesus," Clark whispered. "All right. Just... let me take care of this." Figuring he was already damned, he moved in a blur, his strength twisting and turning the metal in to fit the jagged hole where his body had crashed through. He used his strength and his bare hands to pound in the metal tacks and finished in moments. He looked up at Lex who had been watching, his face blank. "Lex." His friend said nothing in return, and Clark coiled his legs and jumped, grabbing the banister and pulling himself up around the repairs. They'd hold Lex's weight, but he wasn't sure of his own. "Lex, I could use a hand." 

Silently, Lex held out his hand to Clark and tugged him the rest of the way up, offering more balance and anchor than the gangly youth had on his own. Then Clark stood in front of him, and Lex did the thing that came most naturally to him. He punched Clark in the jaw. And then shook his head, because it had hurt _him_ and not Clark. "Bastard." 

Clark turned his head with the force of the blow, and then grabbed Lex by the wrist and quickly scanned his hand. "It's not broken," Clark whispered. "I'm--" 

"What are you, Clark? A liar? The thief in the temple? What?" Lex sat on the couch and then bent double around the pain in his chest. 

"Thief?" asked the other boy hoarsely. "I don't understand." He reached out to Lex, then drew into himself when Lex flinched. 

"A thief, Clark, a thieving angel who gave me everything only to swoop in and take it all away with lies and half truths piled upon more lies until it's all too much!" The ache of betrayal sat heavily in his chest, and bitter bile rose in his throat. But he made no move to leave, just sat on Clark's couch. 

Clark had his arms wrapped around his chest, rocking lightly on his heels as he listened to Lex. "But it wasn't you, Lex. Nobody knows. Just me and Mom and Dad. Please, listen." 

"No! I've listened to all the lies I'm going to listen to! God, I thought you were different! I thought I could trust you. I thought, finally, here is a good person who sees something good in me, and it turns out that you were lying to me all along!" He flung his arms out to ward Clark off as the young man approached, but Clark didn't stop until he was kneeling on the floor in front of Lex, his chest pressed against Lex's outstretched palms. 

"I didn't want to hide it from you, Lex, but I didn't know how you would react. You're my friend, my _best_ friend... you mean the world to me, Lex. I didn't want to risk losing you when you found out I was..." 

"Lying?" 

"A freak. An alien. Different from everyone else." Clark tried to hug Lex, but the other man kept his hands firmly pressed on Clark's chest, keeping distance between them. It hurt. "I didn't want to lose you, Lex." 

At that, Lex stood up. "You lost me on the river bank," he whispered softly. "When you lied to me the very first time, you lost me." He pushed Clark aside, and walked to the large window, standing beside the telescope. "Is this what Phelan had on you?" 

"Yes," Clark said hoarsely, choking back the hot tears that threatened to overflow. Lex's voice was cold, stiff... detached. He hated it. 

"Your... secret... is safe with me, Clark," Lex said bitterly. He turned and walked past the still kneeling boy without saying word, moving carefully over the repaired landing and down the stairs. "Goodbye, Clark," Lex said, and the finality of it rang through the loft as Lex walked out onto the gravel and Clark finally let loose the torrent of tears for his lost friend. 

* * *

Lex looked at the bonfire with a sense of bitter satisfaction. The computer with Nixon's simulations on it--burned. The security tapes--burned. The photographs--burned. Nixon himself--tightly under Lex's control, soon to be eliminated completely. Everything gone, including the Porsche, and its charred hulk would be hauled off in the morning. Everything that remained was inside his head, and it was knowledge that Lex would take to his grave. Surveying the destruction of the garage, Lex nodded and retreated back to the sanctuary of his study, where a new decanter of vodka was waiting for him alongside a pitcher of orange juice, as per his new standing orders. 

Only when he was drunk did the pain go away. 

* * *

Clark refused to leave the Fortress all weekend. Jonathan had tried first, and was met with such a vitriolic spew of hateful words coming from his son that he had been shocked into silence. When Monday came and it was time for school, Clark still refused to budge, and it was Martha who saved the day. She sent Jonathan to Clark's school with a note saying he was ill and would not be in for the coming week. Martha was the only one Clark would allow into the Fortress with him, and she held her son against her shoulder as he wept, stoically absorbed the ranting, and stroked his forehead as he finally fell into troubled slumbers in the early mornings. Over the span of the week, Martha finally pried the details out of her son. 

Rickman's brainwashing of Lex. The fact that Lex remembered shooting Clark in the gas station, remembered seeing Clark tear the doors off the burning car. The destruction of the landing, which Clark had since repaired, and the final deterioration of their friendship. 

She also found out, through tear-choked confessions and hot-cheeked blushes, that her son had been in love with Lex--still was--and it was tearing him apart. That had been surprising news to Martha, but she tucked it in the back of her mind to deal with later; Clark needed her undivided attention now. 

"He hates me, Mom," had become the tear-ridden declaration that her son most often laid out. "He was my best friend, and now he hates me. Why do I always have to lie, Mom? Why can't I trust anyone? I love Lex, and I couldn't trust him. Dad said, you said, but I know he wouldn't hurt me." 

"We have to be careful," was the careworn reply she gave, and even to herself it sounded hollow. What good did it do to be careful when this was the result? "Rest now, sweetie, you need your sleep." 

"I don't care, Mom. I don't care if I never sleep again. I just want to make things right with Lex." But he did as he was told, lying down on the couch, and letting Martha cover him with a striped blanket. "I'm tired of hiding, Mom. If this is what it's going to cost me... I don't ever want to have a friend again." 

Martha's heart broke as she heard the pain clearly in her son's voice. "Goodnight, Clark," she whispered through the lump in her own throat, and then headed straight to the house. Jonathan was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for her. "He's sleeping," she said, in answer to Jonathan's unspoken query. She reached over her husband and picked up the phone. 

When Jonathan saw the number she was dialing, he took the phone from her and disconnected before she could finish dialing. "Martha? What are you doing?" 

"My baby is hurting, and I'll be damned if I don't try and make it right for him," she growled quietly, temper flaring. "I know you're glad to have Lex out of Clark's life, but Jonathan, is this really the price you want to pay for that to happen?" She gestured vaguely out at the barn. "You're going to have to come to grips with the fact that Lex is not his father, and Clark loves him." 

"...loves?" Jonathan dropped the phone, and Martha caught it before it bounced on the table. 

"Yes, Jonathan, loves! I'm not the biggest fan of the Luthors myself, but you have to realize that Clark _does_ have feelings for Lex, and you're going to have to accept those." 

"Have you?" 

Martha glared at him. "Does it look like I've had a chance to process anything?" she snapped. "I've been in there with Clark for the past week, trying to find out what happened and keep him from leaving!" 

"Leaving!!" Jonathan shouted. "What, you mean leaving the house?" 

"I mean leaving, Jonathan. The house, the city, the state, the country... he was talking about the fucking Arctic Circle!" She clapped her hand over her mouth as she heard the expletive escape. "I'm sorry, I'm exhausted." 

Jonathan put his arms around Martha. "Come on. You can call Lex in the morning. You need your rest too. I'll... I'll go out in the barn and wait with Clark." He helped his wife upstairs and waited as she got ready for bed. When she came out of the bathroom, Jonathan was sitting on the edge of the bed, blankets turned down for her and her pillows fluffed. "I won't let him go, Martha," he said softly, though whether it was to reassure her or himself was unclear. 

"I know, Jonathan. You just have to remember something about your son. He may not be your blood, but he's got your temper and your feelings." She took Jonathan's hand in hers. "And you have to know that Lex isn't Lionel. Whatever he did, his son is innocent of that. He's tried to help us, and he's been a good friend to Clark. I think he does genuinely care about our son." She dropped Jonathan's hand long enough to turn his face to meet hers. "Clark loves Lex, and there's nothing that we can do about it." 

Jonathan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw was hurting. "I'll go and sit with Clark. And I'll try and get him to have breakfast in the morning." 

"Jonathan... just remember, all right?" 

"I will, Martha." He leaned over and kissed his wife softly, and then watched as she settled in under the quilt on the bed. "Sleep well, love." Martha snuggled down into Jonathan's side of the bed, and he smiled to see her do it. He waited until she was asleep, and then he kissed her bare shoulder and headed out towards the barn to sit with his son. 

* * *

Clark was tossing and turning on the small couch. His nightmare just wouldn't stop. 

*"Clark... you have some explaining to do." Lex was brandishing the gun that Rickman had handed him, and he was going on the hunt for his best friend. "I knew you were keeping secrets from me, Clark, but I never knew they were this good." Lex found Kyle and dragged him to his feet. "Clark? You know that guy you're trying to protect? I'm going to shoot him now." 

And then... he did. Riddled Kyle Tippett's body with bullets, then let it fall to the ground. 

"Lex!" 

"There you are." Lex swished over to Clark, stopping only a few inches away. "Let's see if you're bulletproof." At point-blank range, Lex sprayed Clark with bullets from the Uzi. He watched in fascination as they impacted against Clark's body, ripped his clothes to shreds and left bruises on the previously unblemished skin. "Clark, Clark, Clark... you've been hiding your light under a bushel basket." Then the scene changed, and Clark was suddenly on his feet again, his shirt in tatters, body bruised, but they were on the riverbank where Clark had first saved Lex's life. "You should have let me go, Clark!" Lex cried out from the bridge. "You should have let me fly!" 

Lex jumped. 

Clark screamed and raced to catch him. But the water was sucking him down, and goddammit, he couldn't run on the surface of water and--"Lex!!"* 

* * *

Clark woke to the sound of his scream dying away in his ears. Hands were pushing him down, and he looked to see Jonathan standing over him. Sitting up, he asked "Are you all right?" 

Jonathan rubbed his shoulder and relaxed. "I think so, son, just my shoulder acting up." There was no way he could tell Clark that he'd all but wrenched the arm out of its socket when he was fighting the nightmare. Better to soothe him. 

Clark drew his knees up and rested his head on them. "God, what a nightmare." 

"You wanna talk about it?" 

Clark shook his head. "Nothing you'd want to hear, Dad, trust me." 

"Why don't you try me and find out?" 

Clark eyed his father suspiciously. "Did Mom put you up to this?" 

"No, son, she didn't. I put myself up to it because I want to know what's bothering you." He put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "Because I don't want to see my son like this." Clark didn't fight him, and Jonathan pulled him into a hug. "Talk to me, Clark. I don't want us to not be able to talk." 

"You won't--" 

"It doesn't matter what you say, Clark. I'm your father, I'm going to love you no matter what you say." 

* * *

"Lex, you have disappointed me." 

"Hi, Dad. Nice to see you too. Didn't we just have this conversation a few weeks ago?" Lex didn't bother to turn around to acknowledge his father; instead he kept staring out at the blackness outside his window. Evening. Nighttime. Something. He didn't even know the time and couldn't bring himself to look at his watch. If he didn't know how late it was, then he didn't have to worry about sleep. Or memories that pretended to be nightmares. "Don't you have anything better to do?" 

Lionel threw the papers down on the desk in front of Lex, who was almost completely through the day's bottle of liquor. "Your whole handling of this... Rickman affair is sadly lacking in finesse, Lex. You called in the lawyers for something that had nothing to do with LuthorCorp, and then you call in absolutely nothing in return." 

Lex ignored his father as he deliberately poured the drinking glass full of vodka and added a splash of warm orange juice, just to appease his father. "I didn't want anything in return." 

"Lex, how many times have I told you, business is not about what you want, but what you can get for the least possible output?" 

Lex emptied the glass in several swallows and then slammed it down on the desk, loudly enough to cause Lionel to jump. "I have my reasons... Dad. Namely, the fact that I didn't call in a marker for making this go away can be used down the road to build something called trust... something you seem to be utterly unfamiliar with." 

"Trust doesn't pay the bills, Lex." 

Lex whirled his chair around to glare at his father. "Building trust allows you to create situations where you can either take advantage of someone else or be taken advantage of," Lex enunciated clearly. "If I build trust with the people of Smallville, it puts me in the position of being able to use them in the future with them not even realizing what I'm doing." 

Lionel calmly regarded his son. Something had happened in the last few days, something that had changed Lex, and he wasn't sure that he liked the difference. It made Lex... colder. Unpredictable. More dangerous. "Just make sure you're not taken advantage of, Lex." 

"Don't worry, Dad. I won't let that happen again." The temperature of Lex's voice had dropped even further, and the older Luthor was tempted to adjust his jacket again to make up for the sudden drop. "I _trust_ you can see yourself out." 

The bitterness that Lex had placed on trust was not lost on Lionel. "Of course, Lex. But... I will be watching. Closely." 

"I wouldn't expect anything else," Lex said with a flippancy he didn't feel. It was nearing the end of the day, and all Lex wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep off the vodka so he could start the next morning's bottle. He watched Lionel storm out of the room, thankful that the lecture was over for now. He turned his chair to stare out the stained-glass windows at the dark sky and momentarily indulged himself in a fit of temper. He flung the mostly-empty bottle through the window, shattering it and letting the cool air in. He smelled the scent of rain, knew that there was a storm brewing, and he welcomed it. 

Shoving his chair back from the desk, Lex walked out of the house in only shirtsleeves and slacks, his dress shoes crunching off the graveled path as he headed towards the gardens. 

* * *

Clark was in the midst of pouring his heart out to his father. And not just things he'd told Martha, but everything. How much he hated having to lie. How much he hated not being normal. "I just want to be me, Dad... but I don't know who I am anymore," was the final, broken confession. 

"You're our son, Clark. Your mother and I love you very much, no matter what you do." 

"I know, Dad, but... I'm not even your son. Not by blood, anyway. I'm just... some stray you took in and gave your name to." 

"Clark, that is not true! You've been a godsend to your mother and me, and I don't mean just the special help you're able to give us. I mean that your mother and I have tried to have children all our time together, and we were never able to. You were the answer to our prayers, Clark, and neither one of us could love you any more even if you were our own." 

Whatever response Clark was going to make was drowned out in the thunder that started to roll and peal above them. His head shot up and he looked at his father. "I gotta go, Dad. I'll come back, I promise. I just... I gotta get out into this. It's... elemental. It's simple. It's natural, it's pure... it's just what I need right now." 

"You will come back home, right?" 

"I swear, Dad. I'll be back when the storm's over." Clark had jumped to his feet, and before his father could say anything else, he was out the window of the loft and streaking across the fields. Jonathan looked out, and then hurried back into the house before the rain started. 

* * *

Clark was running full out. The wind was cutting through his clothes as he ran against it, fighting the gale force every step of the way. He howled with the force of the storm, feeling the ground shake beneath him as his own fury melded with the natural force of the storm, and they almost became as one entity. He jumped as high as he could, and his body floated for long moments, buffeted by the gale before being thrown to the ground. 

The young alien picked himself up, laughing in the face of the storm. "Is this all you can give me?" he shouted to the uncaring sky, and then the rain came. In hard, unforgiving sheets, the drops pelting his skin would have stung painfully if he was human. But he wasn't, and the sting was nothing more than a light pressure. "If a bullet can't hurt me, what's a little rain?" The rain said nothing, just kept pouring down and drenching Clark as he stood in the middle of the cornfield. He took another deep breath as he started running again, not paying attention to where as long as he was moving. 

* * *

Lex stood in the middle of his rose garden, watching the fragile stems get whipped by the angry wind. He knew how they felt; he felt battered and destroyed by the storm that Clark's betrayal had caused him. Not even the drinks were working anymore, and it hurt--physically hurt--to get out of bed in the morning. Lightning forked through the sky, making the young man wince at the brightness. And then the rain started. 

Throwing his arms open wide, he let the harshly stinging rain buffet his body. He felt the sting on his cheeks, on his throat, even through the thin silk of his shirt. "Make me feel again," he challenged the storm. "Make the hurt go away." 

He stood like that for what felt like hours, standing cruciform in the rain, feeling hot and cold run down his cheeks and knowing he must have been crying--but Luthors never cried so that couldn't be. 

Fuck the Luthors. Maybe the Luthors never cried but, by God, Lex did. He cried when Julian died; he cried when his mother died two years later. He'd cried when he was little every time his father missed a birthday, or a special event, but then decided not to waste the tears when he was older. 

And now they all flowed again. For himself, for Clark, for what they could have been together. Friends--the best of friends, indivisible--lovers, companions. He could and would have given Clark the world if he'd wanted it. But no, Clark had lied to him, had refused everything that Lex was trying to give him... and all Lex had wanted in return was Clark. "I loved you!" Lex screamed at the top of his range, his voice battling the thunder and the wind for supremacy. "I loved you and you lied!" Thunder-filled silence was his reply. "Clark... I love you." Lex's voice had lowered to normal. "God help me... I don't know that I can stop." 

* * *

Clark didn't stop until he was forced to, plowing into a rock column that he hadn't even paid attention to. His body and momentum pushed half the column out of alignment, and Clark quickly repaired the damage in the blinding rain as he looked up and realized where he was. Where he always ran to in times of trouble, where he had always been welcomed with open arms and sage advice. 

Lex's mansion. 

It would have been ridiculously easy for Clark to just leave and not look back. He could turn, run back to the farm, hole back up in the loft. Or even better... the spaceship was in the storm cellar, and he could just get that metal tablet that his dad had shown him and he could run with it to the end of the world and wait there until he figured out who and what he was. 

But Clark couldn't run. He was stuck there, at the gate, unable to go in and unable to leave. He would have laughed if he wasn't hurting inside. Then he heard Lex's scream borne on the wind. He was unable to make out what he was saying, only that it was as anguished and painful as his own had been. Without a second thought, he bent the bars of the gate until he could make his way through them, and slicked his wet hair back out of his eyes. "Lex!!" he yelled, at the top of his voice. He could hear his bellow being carried on the gales, and he listened for a response. 

* * *

Lex had closed his eyes as he stood with his head tilted back to the rain, but they snapped open as he heard Clark's bellow of his name. "Clark!" he shouted back, before he could think. "Garden!" He wasn't sure that his voice would carry, but... and how fucked up was this thought... he still _trusted_ Clark to find the way to him. He closed his eyes and threw his head back again, waiting. 

* * *

Clark was rewarded with two shouts. His name, and Lex's whereabouts. The garden. He kicked his speed into overdrive and pulled to a blurring stop in front of Lex. He let his eyes slide over Lex's body, drinking in the features that he'd missed so much in the past few days. "Lex!" he shouted over the storm. 

"What do you want, Clark?" Lex didn't open his eyes, didn't torment himself with the sight of the farm boy in front of him. He shouted to make himself heard. 

"I came to talk, Lex! Like always! You were always here for me when I needed you!" Clark crossed his arms over his chest, hoping that Lex would look at him. "I need you, Lex." 

At that, Lex did roll his head forward and open his eyes. "Fuck you, Clark. You don't need me. You lied to me, Clark, is that how you treat people you need?" The anger burned hot inside him, and he clung to it, trying to burn out the parts of him that still cared about Clark. He tried not to notice how the rain pouring down over Clark made him look like the drenched angel that had saved his life on the riverbank. He tried not to notice the stooped shoulders and the defeated stance that Clark showed him. He tried to hang onto the anger, but the more he looked at Clark, the more he saw of his friend's pain, the anger slowly drained out of him. His body sagged slightly under the lighter weight, and he looked up at Clark. "What do you want?" he asked again, tone less adversarial than before. 

"To talk, Lex." 

"What else is there to say, Clark?" 

"I'm sorry?" 

Lex's eyes raised to meet Clark's. The edge of query to it had done nothing to mute the sincerity of the offered apology. "You think a simple I'm sorry will clear everything up? You say I'm sorry, I say no problem, Clark, and then things go back to the way they were?" Lex walked towards Clark, and was surprised when the boy didn't flinch. "Things will never go back to the way they were, Clark." 

And still the rain came down. Washing away the last traces of his anger. Washing away the last of the lies. 

"I love you, Clark. But I don't trust you." Honest now, nothing more. Holding onto the anger had exhausted him, and Clark's appearance had been the last blow. No longer furiously angry, Lex felt consumed by an exhausted sort of anger that made him want to just look up and say... _I'm so tired now, Clark... no more. Please, no more._

Clark stared back at Lex. "You... I didn't know. Never knew. If I'd known you loved... I would have told you." He closed his own eyes, willing the rain to hide the warm rush of tears spilling over his cheeks. "For what it's worth, Lex, I love you. I have since... well, since you rescued me in the cornfield. From the scarecrow thing." 

"Stop it, Clark. You're only making it worse." He turned his back to the young man. "God, how could you think this would help? Knowing you loved me but didn't trust me enough to tell me this about you? Tell me that you have...special powers that separate you from everyone else." He closed his eyes against the choked-off noises coming from Clark. "You love me but don't trust me. How did you think that would make this better, Clark? How?" 

"I thought... maybe if you knew... it'd make it easier to accept that I had to protect myself." 

"From me." Lex clenched his fists against his thighs. "You had to protect yourself from someone that you claimed to love. That's fucked up, my friend." He turned to walk inside, not even checking to see that Clark was following him. It wasn't until he got off the gravel path and onto the flagstones that he realized his was the only set of footsteps. He turned and found Clark in the same area that he'd been in before, but now his back was to the house and his arms were wrapped tightly around his chest. He seemed to be crouching on the grass and was rocking on his heels. The wind was still whipping, and he could see the flannel plastered across Clark's back and sagging shoulders. The howling wind, the sheeting rain and the pounding thunder kept him from hearing anything that Clark might have been saying, and for a moment, Lex was tempted to just turn around and walk back into the house and let Clark follow in his own time. 

Part of him was afraid that Clark would never follow him again. 

He wasn't aware of having made a decision until his feet were crunching on gravel again, and he was moving towards Clark. He finally drew close enough to hear what Clark was saying. He was repeating one sentence, over and over again. "I'm sorry, Lex, can you just give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me?" 

In that moment, Lex felt every year of their age difference looming between them. This young boy-man was trying so hard to play a grown-up's game of lying to the world about who he was, and Lex had fallen right into the trap with the rest of the world, judging him on the standards of adulthood when Clark was obviously little more than a frightened child. Frightened by the enormity of what he had to hide, what he had to lose, and conditioned never to tell. Lex's anger was gone, drained by the storm and the sight of the pitiful youth before him... and God help him, the love he felt for this young man, a feeling that simply would not die. "Clark... come inside." 

"I'm sorry, Lex." Clark didn't bother to plead for another chance this time. If nothing else, he just wanted Lex to know how sorry he was. Maybe there was some chance of salvaging friendship from this, though he knew his chance at love had been destroyed. If he had to choose, Lex's friendship was far too important to him. "I'm so sorry. If I could do it over again... I'd have told you. I'd have told you when Phelan came to Smallville. I should have told you." 

"Just come inside, Clark. We can talk there." Lex wondered if the young man was even aware of his effects on Lex. Wondered if Clark even noticed that the anger and the hate he tried so hard to cultivate were gone. 

"Lex... are you... do you hate me?" Clark still hadn't turned around to look at him. 

"No, Clark. I don't hate you. I wanted to. But I couldn't." He walked even closer to Clark and put his hand on the boy's wet shoulder. "I couldn't hate you, Clark." He squeezed. "Come inside where it's dry." 

"If you don't hate me... can we maybe... God, I know it's too soon, but can we try this being friends thing again? You're--were--are--my best friend. I can't lose my best friend, Lex." 

The aching pain in that simple, innocent query dug deep into the rawness of his own wounds while plainly laying Clark's open for him to see. "It's too early, Clark," was the only thing that Lex could offer. "But you were right to come here, we do need to talk." 

Clark whipped his head around to look at Lex. "You... mean that? It's... okay if we talk?" 

"Yeah. It's okay if we talk. We need to, Clark, because if we don't, we have no way of knowing if what we had can be salvaged or not." 

"Do you want it to be?" Clark's breath hitched in his throat. "Because... because if you don't want to be my friend anymore, that's okay. Cause I'll... go. Away, you know." 

Too many options were being thrown at Lex, too many decisions that impacted too many other people. "Just come inside, Clark," Lex repeated again. 

"No. I have to know, Lex." His hand grabbed Lex's arm and squeezed, just hard enough to remind him what all the lies had been about. "I have to know before I... make another friend." 

"Clark... I understand that, but... you've got to understand too, I _can't_ say anything more right now. You don't want to open yourself up again for another hurt and neither do I. You hurt me, Clark. You hurt me in ways that I didn't think could possibly hurt me anymore, and I have to come to terms with that." 

Clark nodded and let go of Lex's arm. "Let me know when you decide, Lex. I'll be here." Lex clenched his fist, and for a moment wanted to lay into Clark. Then his frustration won out, and he did swing. Clark turned and caught the flying fist in his hand. "Do you want to hit me again, Lex?" 

"I don't want to hit _you,_ Clark. I want to hit _something._ " He sighed. "I want to punch Bob Rickman in his smug little face for doing this to me, for pitting me against you. I want to break his face for making me see this... secret of yours. And yes, I do want to hurt you for keeping this from me, Clark, but I don't want to hit you." His fist flexed in Clark's grip. 

"Go ahead," Clark shrugged, dropping Lex's hand. "I think we both know you can't hurt me." 

"But you think that me using you as my own personal punching bag is going to make me feel any better?" 

"It might." 

"You really do think I'm some kind of monster, don't you, Clark?" Lex let his hands fall to his sides. "Is that what you really think of me?" 

"I don't know anymore, Lex. I don't know what to think anymore. I just want to know that I'm not going to be the only one working to put us back together again." 

"Come inside. Dry off. Then we'll talk. And Clark... I can promise you that if we do find a way through this, you won't be the only one working for it." Lex hoped that would be enough; it was the best he could offer. An "if," not a "when." 

"That's close enough." Clark rose easily to his feet, and quietly followed Lex into the house. They were met by the house staff, who passed them large towels the size of blankets to dry off in, and Lex led the way to his bedroom. Clark balked at the bottom of the stairs. "Lex?" 

"I'm going to dry off, take a hot shower, and change. You're welcome to do the same." He was scrubbing at his arms, shoulders, and head as he climbed the stairs. 

"I don't have anything to change into." 

"My father has clothes in this Godforsaken place, I'm sure. I know his things will fit you; I'm afraid mine would be too small. I'll have Enrique bring them to you." He walked into his bedroom, and then picked up the house phone, giving a terse set of orders for a sweater, a pair of slacks, underwear and socks to be brought up to his room from his father's closet. When he looked around, Clark was nowhere to be found, and he went to the door only to see Clark still standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Clark. Come upstairs. I'm not going to keep shouting." With that, Lex disappeared back into his bedroom and proceeded to strip the sodden shirt and pants from his body, tossing them in the corner of the bathroom before stepping into the shower. He leaned his head back against the smooth tile as the hot water seeped through his skin and warmed his chilled bones. He hadn't even realized he was cold until that moment, and shivered violently. 

Clark waited until he heard the shower turn on, and then he climbed the stairs slowly. He stood in the middle of Lex's bedroom, taking off his own wet clothes and tossing them on top of Lex's as he wrapped the huge towel around himself and sat huddled in the middle of the floor. He acknowledged Enrique bringing the clothing to him and setting it on the edge of the bed, and then watched as the manservant's eye critically raked over the situation. "I'll have the cook send up hot coffee, Mr. Kent." Without waiting for a reply, he departed, leaving Clark once again alone in the large bedroom. 

Clark pulled in even further onto himself, as the blanket-like towel wrapped him completely, and then rested his head on his knees. 

Long moments later, Lex got out of the shower and dressed in a pair of casual slacks and the deep purple pullover that was waiting on the sink for him, and then emerged to find Clark sitting in the middle of his room on the cold stone floor. He warred between reaching out or ignoring the young man until Lex got a grip on himself, but the obvious dejection and sadness tore at him inside. He couldn't let Clark suffer. He shivered again, still cold, and looked around for a source of warmth. A tray sat on the dresser, with two silver cups and a steaming pot, but Lex ignored it for the moment, instead going to Clark and kneeling beside him. "It's all right, Clark. We'll find a way, together." He put his arms around the boy's still-damp shoulders and held him tightly. There was no way that he could give Clark up. He knew that now. And if it meant swallowing a lie, then he would swallow it as long as he had to. Anger be damned, consequences be damned. This, was what mattered to him. Clark. And in the end, Clark was all he had. 

Clark half turned and wrapped his arms around Lex, burying his face in Lex's throat. "I can't lose you, Lex," he whispered, voice full of anguish. "You're my best friend, I love you, I can't lose you." 

"Just tell me why. Why couldn't you tell me, Clark?" He didn't know what he'd meant to say, but that was not what he'd intended to slip out. He was batting a thousand on the control scale. 

"I couldn't tell anyone, Lex. I thought about telling you, but then... I couldn't. Every time I opened my mouth, I heard my mom and my dad saying how I'd be taken away from them if I told, and I shut my mouth again." 

"You thought I'd have you taken away?" 

"No, not you, Lex. Never you. But other people might. They couldn't find out from me, but what if someone got you? Hurt you? Made you tell them about me. Or your dad... your dad would love to get his hands on me." 

Lex grew chilled again. Clark was right; the old bastard would love to get his hands on Clark. "That won't happen. I'll protect you, Clark, but you have to trust me." He shifted his position, so that Clark rested between his outstretched legs, leaned back against his chest. "Tell me everything now, Clark. Help me understand what I saw... tell me everything now and we can go from here." 

Clark took a deep breath, and started to speak. Words that he'd never before said to another soul. "Back in 1989, during the meteor shower, my pod crashed. I was part of the meteor shower; I came down with them. Martha and Jonathan Kent found me, adopted me. Raised me as their own. I always knew I was different; I was stronger than anyone else I knew, faster too. And then I started developing other powers. The day we met... I found out I was invulnerable." 

"Invulnerable?" Lex asked, his mind flying rapidly. "So I was right." His hands tightened on Clark's biceps. "I did hit you." 

"Yes. You did. Full on. But I wasn't hurt. I didn't know it before, but thanks to you I found it out. Then when you were in the water, I couldn't get to you unless I ripped your roof off. So that's what I did to save your life. I think it's why Dad wouldn't let me keep the truck; he was afraid of what us being friends would lead to... you finding out about me and trying to hurt me. Then... when Tina robbed the bank, I realized I could see through things. I saw her skeleton, like an X-ray." 

"You're not human, are you?" 

Clark shook his head. "No. I'm not. I never have been." 

"The meteor rocks. That's why... Lana's necklace. In the cornfield, you were so weak. I thought you were dying, but then when the necklace fell off... I should have seen it. I should have realized it then." 

"The meteor rocks are the only things that can hurt me. And well... you know about lead." 

"Lead protects you," Lex supplied instantly. "I saw it in the study, with my mother's box. I opened the box, and you looked sick--dizzy. But when I closed it on the necklace, you were fine." 

"Right, that's how it always is." Clark let his head drop back against Lex's shoulder. The storm was still raging, but the intensity had lessened to almost a quarter of the force of before. "And that's everything, Lex." Clark sighed. "That's everything about me. That's everything that I couldn't tell you." 

Lex let Clark relax against him. "So that's how the bullets didn't hurt you." 

"Well, they did bruise me, but no, I wasn't really hurt." Clark shifted slightly away from Lex, wanting to curl back up on himself. "You know everything." 

Lex sighed deeply. "Go and take a shower, Clark. You'll get warm. I'll call--Christ, I can't call, your parents will be asleep." 

"They won't mind. But let me call them. They won't flip out so much if I'm the one who calls them." But he didn't move from the huddled position on Lex's floor. "Lex, I--" 

"Don't. I need... I need to think. Go get in the shower. Clean up. Give me the time I need to think." The please was unspoken, but there between them nonetheless. 

Clark reacted. Wordlessly he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the heavy wooden door behind him and leaving Lex alone in the bedroom. The first thing Lex did was pull himself to his feet and pour a cup of coffee. He refused to let his hands tremble, and once he had poured, he dropped into the chair by the dresser and cupped his hands around the warm mug. 

*What the hell do I do with this, Clark? I have this information, I have _you_ in the palm of my hand. It would take so little to crush you. A few words and you would never be the same again. A few more words and your life as you know it would be over.* Lex paused and contemplated that. His world without Clark. The games with his father escalated to new levels. All sense of humanity, gone. No reason to have it, if you don't have a friend, after all. He let his mind wander farther into the future. The head of LuthorCorp, a glowing ring of meteor rock on his finger to keep Clark at bay, never letting him close again. Bitterness in his soul. That was not the future he wanted. _How do I do it, Clark? How do I let you close to me again?_ The only answer he could see was one that he didn't want to deal with. _I have to trust you again... and I don't know if I can do that._ Lex put the now-cold cup of coffee on the dresser and rubbed his hands over his head. _I don't know if I can trust you ever again._

* * *

Clark was standing in the hot spray of the shower, bracing himself against the tile wall. Of all the places he'd imagined himself, in Lex's shower under these circumstances had never entered his imagination. Lex had exiled him in here so that he could think, and Clark was trying to think too. But his mind was screaming in circles, biting itself in the back and going nowhere but over the same old tired ground. _You lied to him. He should hate you. You'll never be able to make it up to him. And he will never love you._ He slammed his hand against the wall in frustration, shattering the ceramic tile into shards. _Dad was right. I never should have tried to make friends with Lex. I never would have hurt him this way if I hadn't._ He thudded his head against the wall, rubbing his scalp against the jagged, broken tile. 

* * *

Lex stared at the closed door, studying it. As he studied it, he let his mind meander. _The problem, Clark... it's not really trust, is it?_ He cradled his head in his hands. _The problem is that... you're not perfect. You're not the icon that I wanted you to be... you're just as human--inhuman--as I am. Can I accept that? Do I have a choice?_ Then Lex flashed back to a conversation he and Clark had had in the Beanery several days prior. 

//Flashback//  
"So you're Atticus." ::blank look from Clark:: "Atticus Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird?" 

"I've never read it." 

"You should. You two have a lot in common. Small town heroes, believe in the truth, won't back down." 

"How does it end?" 

"It's not about the ending, it's about the journey." //End Flashback// 

_Atticus. Tom Robinson. Boo Radley. Killing a mockingbird... is that what I'm doing here? Is that what Clark is, a mockingbird?_ He walked to his bedside table and picked up his timeworn copy of the book in question. Deftly his fingers found the passage he was looking for. 

//Atticus said to Jem one day, "I'd rather you shot at tin cans in the backyard, but I know you'll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird." 

That was the only time I ever heard Atticus say it was a sin to do something, and I asked Miss Maudie about it. 

"Your father's right," she said. "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."// 

Lex closed the book and studied the gray cover for a long time, and then flipped back open and read the passage again. _Clark might have a lot of things in common with Atticus Finch--like hiding what he does to protect his family--but he's a mockingbird if ever I saw one._ He rubbed his hand over the slick paperback cover, and sat back in the chair. "It's a sin to kill a mockingbird," he whispered out loud. "I can't hate you for what you were born to do... Your song is your secret, Clark. It'd be a sin to destroy you for what you were born to do." He clasped the book tightly in his hands, then rose and walked to the bathroom, rapping on the door. "Hey, Atticus. Still in there?" Lex hoped the use of the nickname would bring Clark out of the bathroom feeling marginally better about himself. "Come out when you're ready, Clark." Lex sat back down in his chair, holding the copy of the book like a talisman. 

Clark listened to Lex's voice as it came muffled through the door. _He's calling me Atticus again... why is he calling me Atticus?_ "I'll be out in a minute." He climbed out of the shower, his stomach in nervous knots. The fact that Lex was calling him Atticus again had to be a good thing, because what was it Lex had said... _You two have a lot in common. Small town heroes, believe in the truth, won't back down._ Clark wondered what Lex would have to say to him, and he wrapped the towel around his waist after drying his hair. He opened the bathroom door and sped out to get the clothes from the corner of the bed and darted back into the bathroom. He dressed in Lionel's clothing, feeling oddly out of place in the fine wool sweater and slacks, but glad he was in something concealing. The long sleeves lapped over his wrists and almost swallowed his hands, and he twisted them together as he came out of the bathroom and looked around nervously. "Lex." 

"Clark. Sit down." Lex tried to smile, but it failed to come out when he saw how nervous and upset Clark still was. "We need to talk." 

Clark took several steps back until he could perch on the side of Lex's bed, and he kept his hands twisted together. "Lex, listen. Before you say anything else... just listen to me for a second. I... I always trusted you, Lex. I still do. You've got everything in the world on me and my family. You could rip us apart. But you won't do it. I trust you." 

Lex carried the paperback book over to Clark, and handed it to him. "Here you go, Atticus. Read this. You'll understand after you read the book." He opened the book to the pages he'd read before, and marked them for Clark. 

"Understand what?" Clark asked, clutching the book tightly to his chest, almost hugging it. 

Lex sighed heavily. "How I can understand what you did. Why you did it." He walked back over to the dresser and poured a cup of coffee for Clark. He knew from the Beanery that the young man drank it black, and so didn't bother to add anything to it as he brought it over. "Here. Drink this." Lex ran his hand over his head nervously. "I want you to read that book, Clark. Don't come back until you do, in fact." 

Clark looked down at the small paperback cradled against him. "This is your copy, Lex... I'll check one out of the library." 

Lex shook his head. "No. I want you to read mine. My mother read this book to me when I was sick, after the meteor shower. I didn't understand most of it at the time, but now I realize what she was trying to tell me." He looked up at Clark. "And now maybe you'll understand what I'm trying to tell you. Just remember... Atticus Finch." There was an awkward pause, where normally Lex would have touched Clark on the shoulder, but there was an impassable gulf between them right now. "I don't hate you, Clark. I wanted to, but I don't think I ever did." He didn't reveal the depth of his feelings. "And yes. We're going to be friends again. It's going to take time. But we can do this, together." Lex offered his hand to Clark, and was gratified when the young grasped it in his own. "Go on home now, Clark. I'll dry your clothes and send them over tomorrow. But you need to rest, and I have to work in the morning." He turned away for a moment but turned back at the call of his name. 

"Lex?" 

"Yes?" 

"Thank you," Clark said, dropping his eyes to the cover of the book. "For not hating me. And... for not giving up on us." 

"My father told me once that I had a destiny, but that I wouldn't get anywhere with my eyes closed." Lex tapped the cover of the book in Clark's hands. "My eyes were closed for a while, because I didn't want to see something that I should have seen a long time ago. I saw this tonight, and it made me open my eyes again." 

"What didn't you want to see?" 

Lex's mouth quirked into a smirk, but it was directed at himself and not Clark. "That you're just as human as me." 

"But--oh." Clark snapped his mouth shut as he caught the realization. 

"Right. Oh. I realized I was taking potshots at a mockingbird, Clark. And that's just not something that I want to do anymore." 

Clark looked down at the book. "All the answers are in here?" 

Lex nodded. "The important ones." 

Clark drained his coffee and handed the silver cup back to Lex, who put it on the tray. "I'll be back in a few days." 

"I'll look for you." Lex watched as Clark disappeared out the door. 

* * *

Jonathan woke before Martha; it was barely four thirty, and he realized what had woken him--silence. The storm had passed. He tossed and turned until a quarter of five, and then, unable to go back to sleep, Jonathan dressed in the darkness and slipped down the stairs and out the door. Once outside, he went into the barn and climbed the steps to the top of Clark's fortress, half-dreading the sight of an empty loft. When he looked in, he sagged against the banister. Clark was curled up on the couch, wearing clothes that obviously didn't belong to him, a book gripped tightly in his hand. Jonathan spread the blanket over Clark, and he turned in his sleep, curling into the warmth. "Dad?" 

"Yeah, son, it's me." Jonathan was surprised to hear the huskiness in his voice. "Are you all right?" 

"Will be," was Clark's tired reply. "Talk later, okay? Need to... talk." His sentence was interrupted by a yawn. 

"I'll be here, Clark. Whenever you're ready." 

"Thanks, Dad." Clark pulled the blanket over his shoulder, and was back asleep in minutes. He didn't feel the splash of Jonathan's silent tears of relief that his son had come back home and wanted to talk. Finally. 

* * *

Almost half an hour later, Jonathan slipped back into the house and sat down on the couch in the early morning darkness. Lost in his thoughts, he started when Martha's arms came around his neck. He raised his hand to hold them there as she kissed his cheek. 

"Jonathan? Is everything all right? You've been crying, is Clark all right?" 

He nodded. "Clark's fine," he said softly. "He ran out into the storm last night... He promised to come back when it was over, but after what you told me... I wasn't sure he'd come home. But... he did. He's up there sleeping. He's wearing strange clothes, but he's back. He mumbled at me when I covered him up. He wanted to talk." Jonathan's voice choked on the last few words. "To me. Not like before when it was just because I was the one there... he asked to _talk_ to _me._ " 

"Oh, Jonathan, that's wonderful!" Martha hugged him tighter. "And he was sleeping?" 

"Yes, calmly too. Really sleeping." 

"Where did the clothes come from?" she wondered aloud. 

"Didn't get to see much, but they looked expensive." _Looked like Luthor clothes,_ Jonathan thought, but didn't say it aloud. 

There was a brief flitter of hope across Martha's face. "Maybe... he went to talk to Lex." 

Jonathan couldn't help the noise of distaste that came out of his throat. "Martha... if you think we Kent men are stubborn... the Luthors wrote the book on it." 

Martha untangled her arms to come around and sit on the couch beside Jonathan. "I know that. But I also know that they go after what they want, and they don't let anything stand in their way. And Lex has always been a good friend to Clark.... I think maybe Clark's friendship is important enough to Lex that he'll fight for it." She ran her fingers through Jonathan's hair. "And maybe... Lex has the same feelings for Clark that Clark has for him." 

Jonathan got up from the couch at that. "Martha!" 

"It's something that we're going to have to think about," Martha said reasonably. "It's not that unheard of, even for a place as small as Smallville. Besides, we don't really know what's normal for Clark, do we? For all we know about him, it could be normal for him to feel... that way about other men." 

Jonathan put his hands on his hips. "Clark is not a man. He's still--" 

"A young man," Martha inserted. "And a teenager. And our son." She got up to walk behind him. "Jonathan... Clark wants to talk to you. You have to be ready to hear things you may not like, including the fact that Clark has serious feelings about Lex." She rubbed his arm. "Can you do that, Jonathan? Listen to what Clark has to say and not over react?" 

"Yeah. I think I can. For Clark." 

Martha kissed him soundly. "That's my boy. Why don't I start breakfast, and we'll see if we can get Clark in the house this morning." 

Jonathan nodded and followed his wife into the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee while she started to make breakfast. Jonathan's mind was on his son, and what in the name of God he was going to say when Clark talked to him, and finally Martha shooed him out of the kitchen. He stepped outside, watching the sun rise, and then he walked into the barn. If he angled his head just right, he could see the edges of the Fortress, and he caught movement. "Clark?" 

"M'awake," came the call from upstairs. "Wanna come up?" Jonathan climbed the stairs and waited on the landing. Clark was in the middle of a stretch, and then he turned to smile at his dad. 

"Mornin' son. Feeling better?" 

"A little bit, yeah." Clark made sure that his copy of the book was still clutched tightly in his hand. "Could use a little more sleep, but when I smelled Mom's pancakes... I couldn't sleep through that." He sat back down on the couch and started folding the blanket, putting the book in his lap. 

"Whatcha got there, son?" 

Clark held the book up so his dad could see the title. "It's  To Kill A Mockingbird. Lex gave it to me, he said that it'd help us. Help me, anyway, to understand stuff." 

Jonathan studied the title, but didn't try to take the book. "I remember reading it way back when," he said, sitting on the couch beside Clark. "It was... hard to slog through." 

"Lex likes it," Clark said defensively. "He calls me Atticus, after the guy in the book. He says we have a lot in common." 

Jonathan noted the defensiveness in his son's tone. "I'm sure it's a great book, Clark, I just had trouble reading it myself." 

Clark nodded. "Sorry, Dad. Just a little jumpy here." 

"It's okay, son. Nobody's gonna force you to do anything. And Clark--I wasn't implying anything about Lex with that statement, okay?" 

"I know." 

"Well, good. Come on into the house, you can change and get something for breakfast." 

Clark looked down at himself. "Yeah, I gotta get these back to Lex. He lent them to me. I was kinda soaked when I got to him." 

Jonathan schooled his face not to show any of the emotions he was feeling, other than a hard swallow in his throat. "You talked to Lex last night?" he asked, heading down the stairs. 

Clark followed him. "Yeah, I did. He was a little messed up too, Dad. I didn't realize it would mess him up like that, us not being friends, I mean." He looked at Jonathan from under his long lashes, gauging what to say. "I think he cares about me as much as I care about him." 

_Crunch time already_ , Jonathan thought to himself. He could feel Clark's perusal, and decided to bite the bullet. "Clark, your mother told me last night that you... have feelings for Lex. I'm having a little trouble with it, but you are still my son, and if that's what you need then that's what you need. You give me time to get my head around it, and we'll do fine." 

Clark put his hand on Jonathan's shoulder, and then hugged him. "Thanks, Dad. It's... it's great that you'll at least try to accept it. And Lex." 

Jonathan knew better than to argue. "What did you bo--two get worked out?" He bit off boys before it could slip out of his mouth. 

Clark looked at the book he'd yet to let out of his possession. "We talked for a while, but we didn't really say that much, only that we did want to work on getting our friendship back. Then Lex let me use his shower and gave me some dry clothes and coffee. We talked for a little while longer, and he gave me the book and told me not to come back until I've read it." 

Briefly Jonathan thought about confiscating the book, but dismissed the notion immediately. "What is he going to do with what he knows?" 

"Nothing," was Clark's immediate answer. "Lex wouldn't do anything to hurt me, Dad. He'll keep my secret. He said that even before we talked. It was the last thing he said to me when he left. He said my secret was safe with him. I trust him." 

Jonathan eyed Clark's earnest expression, and then sighed deeply as they climbed the porch steps. "Then I guess I don't have any other choice. If you trust him... then I trust your judgement too." He held the door open for Clark and then followed him in. 

Martha smiled widely. "Clark!" She hugged him with one arm while the other held a spoon covered with batter over the counter. "Go on upstairs and change, then come back down. I made your favorite, blueberry pancakes." 

Clark kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Mom." He disappeared up the steps to his room, and Martha looked at Jonathan. 

"That's a great improvement." 

Jonathan poured himself a cup of coffee. "He went to Lex's last night, said they talked, and then he came back home." 

Martha turned back to the griddle as she poured. "It must have gone well." 

"Clark says it did." Jonathan settled in his chair. "I'm not so wild about it." 

"What is it?" 

"He said... he said he thinks that Lex cares about him just as much as he cares about Lex. I'm not wild about this whole situation to start with, but if that's true... we're looking at our son getting seriously involved with a Luthor." Jonathan added milk and honey as he spoke. "I'm not sure I like that at all, but I can't stop it." 

"And what did you tell him about that?" 

"That I wasn't wild about it but that I'd work on accepting it for his sake." He sipped his sweetened coffee. "And I will." 

"What else did he say?" 

"Not much. He didn't go into detail about what he and Lex talked about, only that they both agreed that they wanted to work on their friendship, and that Lex gave him the book and told him not to come back until he reads it." 

"What book?" Martha asked curiously, drying her hands as she looked at the pancakes sizzling. 

"To Kill A Mockingbird. Seems Lex has taken to calling Clark Atticus, and gave him the book last night. Clark's been carrying it around all morning. He was sleeping with it earlier." 

Martha smiled softly, flipping the pancakes. "I remember reading that book. And yes, our son does have a lot in common with Atticus Finch." 

"So Lex says," Jonathan replied, watching her flip expertly. "I'm not sure what I think about this, I'm just glad Clark seems to be getting better with it." 

"You know why," Martha pointed out. "Because of whatever it was he and Lex worked out last night." 

"You don't have to remind me," he grunted. 

Clark came back downstairs dressed in his usual jeans and flannel, and sat down across from Jonathan. To Kill A Mockingbird was tucked in the breast pocket of the flannel shirt, and when he sat down, he put it on the table beside him. "Mom, that smells great." 

Martha couldn't help the smile. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that, Clark." She put the first stack of pancakes on the table in front of her boys, and watched as they quickly divided them up and drenched them in homemade maple syrup. "I'm glad you're feeling better." 

"I am. I went to see Lex last night. We talked." He dug into the pancakes, which gave Martha enough time to serve the second stack and then sit down at the table with the two men. "It was good." 

Martha took several pancakes off the stack, and casually questioned Clark. "What did you talk about?" 

"A lot of stuff, really." He put down his fork and looked at Martha, Jonathan forgotten for the moment. "Did you know that Lex thought that I was perfect?" 

She couldn't hide the rueful smile. "I... got that impression from time to time." 

"Well, he said that was mostly what he was angry about. That I wasn't perfect like he thought. He said... he said that he didn't want to see that I was just as human as he was. I'm not sure what that means though." 

"Clark, I think Lex is trying to tell you that he didn't want to see his own flaws mirrored in you. Because you're special." 

"So if I could lie to him... it means that I'm just like everyone else he doesn't like, and he thinks I'm treating him the same way as everyone else does. Using him." Clark sighed. "I never thought of it like that." 

"It's all right, Clark. It's not easy to know that someone else has such high expectations of you. But now that you're both on the same footing... things are going to be easier now." She looked over at the paperback. "Can I see the book?" 

"Yeah, sure." Clark passed the book over to his mom, and watched her handle it delicately. 

As Martha turned the book over to look at the back, it opened to the passage that Lex had marked for Clark. She quickly scanned over it, and nodded. "Clark, did you know there's a page marked here?" 

"Yeah, Lex marked it last night." 

She passed it over to him, open to the page. "I think you should read it now, before you read anything else in the book. I think it'll help you understand." 

There was silence at the breakfast table as Clark read the page Lex had marked, and his parents ate their breakfast. "Am I a mockingbird, Mom?" 

Martha nodded. "Yes, you are." 

"I think I'm going to like this book." 

* * *

Jonathan had wanted Clark to go back to school, but Martha had intervened. "Give him another day, Jonathan, and he'll be ready to go back to school on his own, won't you, Clark?" 

"Oh, yeah, absolutely," Clark reassured his father. He disappeared back into the barn right after breakfast, book in hand, and settled into the Fortress to read. 

* * *

Lex had not slept well after Clark left, and finally gave up about six. He showered again and dressed in a black suit with a navy shirt and tie before going downstairs to his office. He knew he'd need to make an appearance at the plant today and was planning out his day when Enrique knocked on the door of his study and brought in a fresh bottle of liquor. He almost reached out to take it, and then shook his head. "Take that back to the cabinet... I won't be needing it any longer." 

Enrique didn't quite smile. "Very good, Master Lex. Would you prefer coffee instead?" 

"Yes, that would be perfect." Lex clicked on his computer, logged onto the LuthorCorp intranet, and began to work. Enrique placed the coffee at his elbow and disappeared again like a good servant. After several hours, Lex looked at his watch. Eleven. The plant could wait until the afternoon, Lex had a trip to make. 

He had his silver Ferrari pulled around to the front, and he got into the driver's seat, donning sunglasses and gloves before putting his hands on the steering wheel. He wanted to know how Clark was doing this morning... but going to the Kent Farm would be... not good. He'd told Clark not to come around until he'd read the book and he meant it, but he still wanted to reassure himself that the young man was doing well. Reaching into the glove box, he compromised by bringing out his cell phone. Pushing the first speed dial setting, the Kent's phone was soon ringing in his ear. 

* * *

Jonathan was helping Martha dry the dishes from lunch when the phone started to ring. "I'll get it," he said, and picked it up. "Hello?" 

"Mr. Kent, it's Lex Luthor." 

"Hello, Lex." Jonathan leaned against the doorway leading to the living room. "What do you want?" 

On the other end of the phone, Lex flinched slightly. "I wanted to see how Clark was doing this morning." 

"He's doing... better." Jonathan's next words nearly choked him. "Thanks to you." 

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone. "Mr. Kent... you have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that." 

"You have no idea how surprised I am to be saying it," Jonathan countered, and then jumped when Martha snapped his hip with the dishtowel. "Whatever you said to Clark last night really brought him out of it." 

"Believe me, Mr. Kent, it worked both ways. Your son is quite the persuasive man when he wants to be." 

"Lex... I don't know what your intentions are towards my son, and I really don't want to hear it, but if you do anything like this again, hurt him like this again... there won't be a place on this earth you can hide from me." 

"I understand you perfectly, Mr. Kent. Clark is my friend, and despite this horrible setback, I know we'll be friends again. And I will do anything to protect my friends. Clark's secret included, you have my word on that." 

"I told Clark this morning that if he put his trust in you, then I would put mine on his judgement of you. Don't make me regret that, Luthor." He jumped again at the snap of the dishtowel landing on his shoulder, and then the phone was tugged out of his hand by his wife. 

"Lex, I'm sorry about Jonathan, he's just being bearish." 

"Nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Kent. If I were in his position, I'm sure I'd be reacting the same way to someone who could threaten my family's future. But let me give you my word, you won't have anything to worry about on that score. Clark is my friend, despite our problems, and I won't let anything endanger him or his family." Something about Martha Kent touched Lex in a way that reminded him of how he'd reacted to his own mother's kind touch. Even over the telephone, her voice was enough to calm him. "Clark and I were both wrong, Mrs. Kent, and I'm sorry that my friendship with him has caused him so much pain." 

"So am I, Lex. But I know Clark values your friendship very highly," she said, choosing her words carefully. "All friends have their ups and downs. As long as you get through this together, you'll come out the stronger for it." 

Lex found himself blurting out the truth to Martha's reassuring voice. "I love your son, Mrs. Kent. He knows I love him; at least I hope he does. I'm not sure if he knows quite what he means to me, however." 

"Yes, he does," Martha said softly, glowing with a quiet satisfaction. "You may not have told him, but he knows. He knows you care about him." 

"This is not how I anticipated you finding out," Lex said ruefully. "I'm sitting in my car and you're probably in your kitchen, standing over the sink and looking out at the barn. I had sort of envisioned your husband chasing me with a shotgun while I ran and yelled things over my shoulder." 

Martha laughed in acknowledgement. "That's rather melodramatic of you." 

"You're taking this rather well. I suppose I should be glad that I didn't tell Mr. Kent." 

"Clark's our son, Lex. He told us a few days ago how he felt about you; we're still trying to come to terms with it here but it's getting easier. It's not exactly something that we ever expected to have to deal with, but this is Clark... he's special. We're used to dealing with the unexpected." 

"I wish I could say that this would all go away, but I think we both know that it's going to take some time for it to heal." 

"Not as long as you think," Martha smiled. "I read that passage you marked for Clark. He read it too; he's reading the rest now. I think once he finishes the book he'll understand a lot more than you realize." 

"I hope that's true, Mrs. Kent. I can admit that I made a mistake. I judged Clark too harshly based on an ideal that I thought he was." 

"I know. But you're telling the wrong Kent, Lex. Clark needs to hear this coming from you, too." 

"He will. However, it's important that you and Mr. Kent both know that it's the last mistake I intend to make with Clark." 

* * *

Clark was snuggled into the couch with his book, and Jonathan stood at the top of the stairs, watching him. A bag of chips and a soft drink--remnants of Clark's lunch--sat beside him on the floor. "How's it goin', son?" 

"Not bad." Clark swung his feet onto the ground, making room for his dad to take a seat beside him. "It's a good book. You're right about it being kinda thick to slog through, but... I think I like it." He carefully marked his place and looked up at his dad. "I think I'm starting to understand what Lex is trying to say. He's trying to say... he's sorry. Just like I said I was sorry." 

"He's a Luthor, son, apologies don't come easy to them." _But we still got one from Lex,_ Jonathan reminded himself. "Your mom just got off the phone with Lex." He sighed inwardly when he saw Clark light up at the mention of Lex Luthor. "He called to make sure you were doing all right after last night," he said in answer to Clark's expression. 

Clark couldn't help but grin. "He said last night that we were going to be friends again." He looked up at Jonathan, and even though he tried, he couldn't mute the happiness that shone through. "He promised, Dad." 

Jonathan could not believe he was going to make this next statement. "Son, you know how I feel about Lex--no, now let me finish," he said, when Clark tried to interrupt. "You know how I feel about Lex, but... despite that, he's always kept his word to you. I told you, if you trusted him, then I'd have to trust you. And I do." 

Clark hugged his father hard, and held on. "Thanks, Dad. You don't know what that means to me." He knew what it was costing his Dad to say these things, and it made Clark love him more. 

Jonathan squeezed his eyes closed as he held Clark against him. He'd been worried that Clark was outgrowing him, and that things were going too fast for the young man to handle, but right now everything seemed to be looking up. "You're my son, Clark," he answered, as if that explained everything. 

And to Clark, it did. 

* * *

It took Clark three and a half days to finish _To Kill A Mockingbird,_ and when he was done, he spent the rest of the half day formulating all the questions he wanted to ask Lex. He'd gone back to school two days earlier, and was still working like a maniac to catch up on everything that he'd missed. With everything conspiring against him, it was a week before Clark could get back to Lex. He'd re-read most of the book again by the time the weekend had finally rolled around, and Clark was free to go and see Lex. 

He'd declined all of Martha's offers to come along with him, in the end accepting a box of homemade lemon cookies to take with him instead. Comfort food. Jonathan had been conspicuously absent most of the day, until Clark was ready to leave. Appearing suddenly from the side of the house, Jonathan embraced his son fiercely and then sent him on his way. His father's tacit approval meant more to him than even the box of cookies tucked under his arm, and Clark was hard put to blink away the tears. 

Martha stood on the porch, watching Clark speeding out of sight, and turned to her husband. "Thank you. 

Jonathan climbed up the steps and put his arms around her. "For what?" 

"For remembering he's your son. For letting him do what he needed to do. For letting him know just now that you want what's best for him, even if that is Lex." 

Jonathan repeated to Martha the same thing he'd said to Clark earlier in the week. "He's my son, Martha." 

* * *

Clark had been hanging outside the gate for the last ten minutes. The cookies were untouched in the box, and the book was tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket. He knew Lex was inside, sitting on the maroon divan in his study and sipping from a crystal glass as he watched the fire. Finally, Clark squared his shoulders and headed inside, scaling the rock wall and dropping onto the grass. He knocked on the front door, and was greeted by Lex's only remaining full-time manservant, Enrique. "Mr. Kent, a pleasure to see you. Master Lex is waiting in the study for you." 

"Thanks," Clark said. He was never quite sure how to address the quietly unobtrusive manservant, and most times chose just to speak to him without naming him. Enrique didn't seem to mind. 

"Would you like me to take your jacket?" 

"No, I'm cool. I mean--I'm fine." 

"As you wish, Mr. Kent." Enrique smiled politely. "It's good to see you again. Down the hall and to your left." 

Clark nodded, gripping the box of cookies tightly as he walked down the hallway and into the study. He doubted there was a room in the castle he hadn't been in, and as he came in, Lex rose from the couch. "Clark." 

"Lex." Before Lex could say anything else, Clark shoved the box towards him. "Mom sent these. Said we should have something to eat while we talked." 

"Your mother's a smart woman, Clark. Sweet treats to sweeten our words, I'd bet." 

Clark shifted nervously. "I finished the book." 

"I gathered that, since you're here. Sit down, I'm not going to bite you." Lex sat back down on the maroon couch and left room for Clark to sit down beside him. "Did you like it?" 

"Yeah, I did. It was a little intimidating at first, but then once I got used to it, it went pretty well." He eyed Lex carefully. "I figured out why you called me Atticus." 

"I told you why." He lifted his glass and sipped, watching Clark over the rim. 

"Well, yeah, but I saw other things in the book too. Like in the end, when he thought Jem had killed Mayella's father Bob Ewell. He was going to make Jem own up to what he did, only it wasn't Jem. And when he found out who it really was, he let it go rather than go after Boo because it'd hurt him. Sort of like I didn't go after Lana because of Whitney." 

"Very good, Atticus." Lex toasted Clark with his glass. "Did you read what I had marked?" 

"Am I a mockingbird to you, Lex?" 

"Yes, you are." 

"That's what Mom said. She saw what you had marked, and she told me that I was a mockingbird. I'm not sure why, though." 

Lex moved incrementally closer to Clark. "Because of who and what you are. Clark, you were sent here to protect people. It's ingrained in you; I've seen you in action. That's your song, Clark. And all you do is sing. So you hid your nest. You still sing, and that's all that's important." 

Clark opened the box and took one of Martha's cookies out, nibbling on it as he thought. "Shouldn't I be Boo Radley? I mean, I'm the local freak, and he protected Jem and Scout." 

"Boo was a mockingbird too, Clark. And yes, in a way, he is like you. Innocent to the world, wanting to have friends but afraid to come out and show who he really is. If you wanted to dissect the novel, you could make a case for you being each and every one of the characters, from Atticus Finch to Tom Robinson." Lex leaned in even closer. "But overall? Atticus, you're the straightest man in Smallville." 

"Dad said this is your way of saying sorry." 

Lex shook his head. "No, my way of saying sorry is this. Clark, I'm sorry. I held you responsible for my own lapse in judgement, and I won't do it again. I promise you that. I had an ideal in mind for you, and when you failed to live up to it, instead of accepting that I had made the wrong judgement, I got angry at you. I let my anger say things that shouldn't have been said." He finished the drink in the glass, and then reached for one of the cookies. "I became more like my father in that moment than I ever wanted to be." Then he looked back at Clark. "It wasn't until you came and I saw the pain and the anguish and the misery that I was causing you that I realized I was the one hurting you for my own foolish reasons. I would never intentionally do anything to harm you." He got up from the couch and headed to his desk, where he picked up a package wrapped in plain silver paper. "This is for you." Clark took the package from Lex and carefully tore the paper down the side. It revealed a white box, and when he opened the box, he gasped softly. "It's a first edition," Lex explained, reaching out to flip the cover open. There had been a page loosely inserted behind the jacket, so as not to spoil the condition of the book itself. Clark read the inscription to himself. 

_To the most precious mockingbird in the world; may your song forever sound clearly in my life. Love always, Lex._ Attached to the loose page was a silver bookmark, bearing the engraving of a mockingbird. 

Clark fumbled for the book in his jacket pocket but was blinded by tears. He felt Lex's hands on his and then Lex pulled him into a hug. "It's all right, Clark. I'm here; I've got you." 

Clark held tightly to Lex, everything else forgotten. "You love me?" 

"Yes," is all that Lex answered. 

"Even after all this?" 

"Nothing would make me stop." He took Clark's hand, and using it, traced over the word always in the inscription. "I mean what I said, Clark." 

Clark finally fumbled the paperback out of his pocket and passed it silently to Lex, who sat it on the coffee table, along with Clark's hardback. "Lex... I want to ask you for something, and I know... I know you'll say no but I want to ask anyway... I need to ask, whatever." 

Lex moved his hands to rest on Clark's shoulders. "Ask." 

"Can you... you know... you and me... is it too soon to tell you that I want us to be together? Friends like we were before but together too?" 

"Not at all; in fact I was hoping you'd say it," Lex said. "Clark... I'm not angry any more. I don't want you to be upset. And I don't want you to be nervous. There's no need for you to walk on eggshells with me; that's not how we are together. We're friends, Clark, closer now than ever since there are no longer any secrets between us." 

"I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you, Lex. Sorry that it came out like this... came between us like this." He made no move to escape from Lex's arms. "I really am." 

"Clark, you've apologized for this enough to last your lifetime. No more. No more apologies from you, not on this." He looked down to Clark's head resting on his shoulder. "It's been accepted every time you've said it, is that what you're worried about?" 

"Well... yeah." 

"Don't." Lex rubbed Clark's back soothingly. "Apology has been accepted, multiple times." Clark turned so that his back was against Lex's chest, and he sat there quietly, Lex's arms holding him loosely as he stared into the fire. "I'm sorry I hit you, Clark. I don't usually do that." 

Clark shrugged. "The situation seemed to call for it." 

Lex shook Clark. "Don't you do that. Don't you ever accept someone hitting you because they're angry. Not me, not anyone else." 

"If I'd hit you back, I'd have hurt you. It's easier for me to just absorb it and go on than hurt you." Clark closed his eyes as he listened to Lex's heartbeat. "I'm glad you couldn't hate me. If you had... I wouldn't have stayed. I've have gone." 

Lex's hands tightened on Clark's wrists. "Where would you have gone?" 

"The ends of the earth. Antarctica. The Arctic Circle. There's a piece of my spaceship... it calls out to me sometimes, tells me I need to go to the cold and snowy parts of the world, far away from everyone else. If you had hated me, that's where I would have gone. I'd have gotten that piece and just disappeared." 

"I would have hunted you down, once I realized that it wasn't you I was angry with." 

"I would have hidden, Lex. I wouldn't have let you find me." 

Lex leaned forward until he could meet Clark's gaze. "Promise me you won't do that. Not without telling me so I can find you. I know that the time will come when you need to be alone--I know that's why you have the fortress in the barn--but promise me you will tell me so that I can find you." 

"I promise," was Clark's whispered vow, but it was stolen by the light kiss that Lex touched to his lips. 


End file.
